


The Struggles of Eating Breakfast

by Control_Room



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: (very little and later), Alternate Universe, Family, Gen, Jewish Pines Family, Kippa Lee, New Au, Religious Stan, Stangst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-16 16:21:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9279695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room
Summary: Stanley is the only religious member of the Pines family, and the second Fast of the Summer, Tisha B'Av nearly flies over his head. Nearly.***Kippa Lee (AU)A/N: I'll try to add art!





	1. Prefast

**Author's Note:**

> I call it-- the Kippa Lee AU! Artwork to come, some Stangst later, who knows! I started writing this on Sunday which was a fast day. The idea hit me like a semi-truck! Comment, flame, enjoy, hate, kudos or not, I hope y'all like it!

Stanley sighed and readjusted his kippa, or yarmulke, or head covering that a lot of Jewish guys wear, or whatever the gehenna you'd like to call it. Most people didn't even know he wore one, it normally was tucked away under his fez. Stan chuckled as he remembered the kids' reaction the first time they had seen it.

 

* * *

 

It was in the niblings first week in Gravity Falls when-- 

 

"Grunkle Stan?" Mabel, that adorable little pumpkin, said tentatively one day as he restocked a few things. Stan hummed in response. "What's that poking out from under your fez? Is it a mind control chip? Oh! Grunkle Stan, were you abducted by aliens and didn't tell me? Gasp! Wait 'til I tell Dipper! He'll know what to do! What if they were cute alien boy teens!?"

 

"Mabel, I'm right here," Dipper, who indeed was and had been right next to the overexcited preteen. He was scribbling in that worn red notebook of his. (Now, Stan knows it was his brother's worn red notebook.) "I don't think Grunkle Stan was abducted, but maybe I could--"

 

"Kiddos, I wasn't abducted by no aliens," Stan grinned, knowing Dipper would say something about double negatives. Dipper's eyebrows furrowed, and he was about to say something, but Stan cut him off. "It's just my kippa."

 

The young twins looked at each other, confused. Stan sighed and took his fez off, so they could see it better. Mabel squinted and Dipper shrugged.

 

"Oh!" Mabel exclaimed, eyes widening and lighting up. "Dad sometimes wears one if we go to synagogue! But he calls it a Yarmulke."

 

"Yeah, some people call it that," Stan agreed with a nod. Then he glanced at the clock. "Hey, it's seven thirty, in the morning. Why're you two gremlins up?"

 

"I had a weird dream about gnomes," Mabel explained, waving her sweater's sleeves around. "And I accidentally woke Dippin' Dots up."

 

"Okay," Stan slowly responded, then turned back to restocking. "Just eat your breakfasts before you go start a forest fire or something."

 

* * *

 

Stan chuckled, then checked the calendar. He was glad it was Saturday, it was a really relaxing break, even if it meant he couldn’t use electronics or things like that. He hummed to himself a tune of Lecha Dodi, an evening prayer recited on Shabbat night, aka Friday night. His head snapped up suddenly, and he snatched the calendar off it’s stand, and groaned. Was that really the date? That meant the fast started tonight! Rushing into the kitchen, he grabbed a few things off the shelves and checked if the urn was on. To his relief, it was, so he made himself a cup of tea. Stanley grabbed a water bottle and drained it before his tea was even able to cool down. Mabel, who was reading one of her Evening Trilogy, stared at him in wonder. Stan payed her no mind and drank his entire cup of tea in one gulp, wolfing down a sandwich in what had to be record time. She continued to gape at him while he chugged down another water bottle and made more tea with his other hand.

 

“What are you gawkin’ at, Shifi?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and setting down his cup, slapping together another sandwich. “Never seen me eat before?”

 

“Well, I never saw you eat  _ sooo _ much at once,” she responded, putting her book down. She tilted her head. “And you never call me ‘Shifi,’ unless your brain is in ‘super jew’ mode.”

 

“Ach,” Stan rolled his eyes nonchalantly. He took another bite of his sandwich. “It’s nothing Shifra- I mean, Mabel. Where’s Tzuriel- ugh,  _ Mason- ARGH!  _ **_Dipper_ ** ? And Tzur- FORD.”

 

“Wow, you must be in ultra super jew mode,” Mabel giggled. “I didn’t know Dipper and Grunkle Ford shared a similar hebrew name. They’re in the basement doing who knows what.”

 

“Do you know’f Ford disabled the vending machine for Shabbat?” he asked, trying to keep the groan out of his voice. “Ya know I won’t open it.”

 

“I don’t think he did…” she pondered a moment more. “I don’t think so. Sorry Grunkle Stan.”

 

“It’s fine sweetie,” Stanley sighed, trying and failing miserably to keep the disappointment from his tone. “Just wanted to ask him a question.”

 

“I can open the vending machine,” Mabel arguably offered. “Like, it doesn’t really….”

 

She trailed off under the look her great uncle was giving her. It was not critical, nor offended, merely… searching. He suddenly stood up, snatching his half-eaten sandwich along the way. Mabel hopped off her chair and followed in close pursuit. He stood in front of the vending machine, raised his hand and… knocked very quietly  _ next _ to it. Surprisingly, it silently swung open, no sound to be heard.

 

“That was how I got in on holidays and the such,” Stan admitted with a wry smile. “I never really understood how it would just, ya know,  _ open _ . BUT then there’s the elevator, which I can’t use at all, so… it was pretty pointless.”

 

“Whoa,” was all the starstruck Mabel was able to say. “That’s cool and creepy, in a way. Are there anymore secret places in here?”

 

“I think you found them all,” he chuckled in response. “Do ya mind fetching Ford and Dipper up to the kitchen? I’d like to talk to everyone.”

 

“About what?” Mabel asked innocently, batting her eyelashes. “About how wonderful I am?”

 

“I’ll be sure to throw some of that in,” Stan said, then grinned widely. “I’ve gotta finish this sandwich.”

 

* * *

 

In just a few short minutes, Stan looked up from his tea to the sound of Stanford’s footsteps and voice, asking Mabel what the hurry was. She responded with a ‘cuz I said so’, making both Stans laugh.

 

“Grunkle Stan,” Mabel commented with a smile as the trio entered the room, “how many more sandwiches have you had since I left to get these two nerdy dorks?”

 

“Uh… one and a half?” he answered quizzically. “Why?”

 

“Isn’t that a lot, even for you?” Dipper interjected. Stan rolled his eyes. Seriously, there has got to be a direct link with the words ‘Pines’ and ‘sassy’. “Grunkle Stan, you're not overeating, are you?”

 

“No,” he smoothly responded, calmly finishing off another sandwich. “I’m going to tell you all the story of what happened tomorrow, many years ago, multiple times. Now shut yer traps and listen.”

 

“Why are you doing this, Stan?” Ford sighed, exasperated. He plopped down in a chair regardless, and Stan passed him a cup of coffee he had obviously prepared. “Something tells me this is going to be a long talk.”

 

“How’d you guess, bro?” Stan said cheerfully, drinking yet another cup of tea. “Now siddown, ya two gremlins.”

 

Dipper and Mabel compiled, and Stan passed to both of them Pitt Colas.

“It started in the year, jewish year, mind you,” Stan began, glancing at each of them. “2449, or sometime around 1310 BCE or something like that. The jews were, and still are, huge complainers, but this time, they hit home. The men, who I tell ya now, were real crybabies, and they were like ‘hey! It’s better to die a slave in Egypt than out here in a desert! Let’s cry and mope all night because of our bad feelings!’, and whoop dee doo, G-d’s like ‘now you’ve gotta wander the desert 40 years, ‘til this generation of guys die. If you’re gonna cry ‘bout garbage, I gonna give ya something to cry about!’ Dija all get that?”

 

Mabel looked entranced, Dipper thoughtful, and Ford looked confused and reminiscent.

 

“This is reminding me of…” he began, dropping off in thought. “Nevermind.”

 

“Next,” Stan continued. “Not one, but  _ two _ , both of the Holy Temples were destroyed. Then, there was a ginormous city filled with Torah study. It was called Beytar, and was demolished. After that, definitely terrible- Yerushalaim got  _ plowed over. _ Ya heard me right, they flipped all the soil an’ everything. And that’s just the beginning, actually. The Jews of England were expelled by King Edward I on this date in 1290. Also the jews of Spain. A lot happened tomorrow throughout history. ”

 

It was silent around the table for a moment. Stan looked at the clock and gathered the things for havdala, Shabbat’s ending… ceremony ( _ for lack of a better word _ ). He filled his winecup.

 

“Shifra, would you please hold the candle? Thank you.  _ Hinei kel yeshuati… _ ”


	2. Brekfst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan's "lovely" morning.

With a groan, Stan pulled himself off the floor of his bedroom, slow and steady. He knew it wasn’t necessary to have slept there, due to his age, but he still felt… obligated to do so, or some nonsense thing like that. Picking up his kippa from where it had fallen beside him, he smiled and rubbed his thumb over the tight stitched yarn, remembering when Dipper bashfully presented it to him, after his original… well.

* * *

 

“Oh no! Brace yourselves!”

Stan saw the fear on the kids’ faces and he hated himself, wishing that the shift in gravity would push him into the swirling blue. It didn’t and he numbly felt Soos and Dipper attacking him. He remembered yelling something, but couldn’t remember what. What he did remember, though, was a small, but powerful, punch to the top of his head from the tiny preteen. It brushed his scalp, but hit his fez straight on. The red thing flew off, hovering in the air, and in the scuffle, someone (eh-hem, Dipper), hit the floating little black yarmulke with a backhand, and sent it careering into the portal.

* * *

 

Looking back, Stan was able to laugh at the rather… comical incident. He walked into the restroom, carefully washing his hands with the silver double handed cup, one-one, two-two, three-three, dry, leave room, “ _ Baruch ata HaShem…. _ ” Pausing to adjust his outfit, which he had slept in, his lips tightened when he saw the wrinkles he had put into it. Going over his side table, he picked up his Siddur [Prayer Book], and flipped it open to the morning prayers, being sure to thank G-d his brother came home safely. When the infamous Author stepped out of the portal, Stan found his fallen fez and jammed it upon his head as a replacement kippa. Mabel, bless her kind soul, was the first to notice Stan’s head cover gone, and her twin looked away, embarrassed. Stan shrugged it off, but when Stanford had heard Stanley wore a kippa, he stared in surprise at his younger-by-fifteen-minutes twin. When they had their conversation by the mirror, he casually threw in a “I didn’t know you were religious,” which, although disgruntled the grunkle, Stan laughed and replied, “I wasn’t.” Smiling reminiscently, Stanley finished up davening Amida, and sat on the floor, as was customary on strict fasts. With a content sigh, he flipped to the back of his siddur, where Tehillim [Psalms] were located, and began to hum as he read.

* * *

 

“Um… Grunkle Stan,” Dipper said hesitantly, two days prior to this **_lovely_** _sunday_ **_fast_** , a few minutes before the Sabbath started. “I… well you know how I knocked your yarmulke into the portal?”

“Yep,” Stan replied cheerily, popping the ‘p’. “What about it? Told ya not ta worry ‘bout it. Maybe some alien race thinks it’s an angry god or something.”

“Maybe,” Dipper agreed with a wry smile, then looked at his shuffling feet. Slowly, he took a blue and white kippa out from behind his back, handing it over to his grunkle. He turned red as Stan took it from his hand, looking at it curiously. “So, I might not be the best knitter in the world, but Mabel helped and I thou--”

“I love it.”

“What?” Dipper seemed entirely taken aback by Stan’s blunt response.

“I love it,” Stan repeated, taking his spare off his head and immediately putting Dipper’s on instead. He ruffled his nephew’s hair affectionately. “Thanks, kid. It means a lot.”

* * *

 

Some sickly sweet scent swirled slowly, sliding so Stan smelt it. Pancakes, he registered, mind dull and thoughts mushy. He should eat some lat-- oh. Fast day. Right. Today was going to be  _ amazing _ . He finished up the psalm he had been reading and very slowly closed his Siddur, staring straight ahead. Still looking forward, he raised a hand to put it back on his side table. About five minutes elapsed before he stirred. A knock came tapping on his door, and he got up suddenly.

Now, there are actions people regret. Some of these actions they regret on their deathbed, some fifty years later, some a decade, some within a year, some within half a year, some in a month, some in a fortnight, some in one week, some in a day, some in an hour, some in a minute, some in a second, some immediately, and some, very rarely, as they commit the action.

Unfortunately for one 59 year old great uncle, standing up fell into the last category. His head spun, his knees wobbled, and stars laughed as they danced across his vision. Gasping, he gripped his bedpost and panted for a bit before hearing a worried, “Grunkle Stan?”

“I’m coming Mabel,” Stan said, as soon as he managed to get some breath into his lungs, than shuffled to the door, keeping a hand on the wall. He opened the door and smiled at his niece. “Hey Shifi. What’s up?”

“You weren't,” the boy obsessed preteen giggled. “Grunkle Stan, it’s like, one thirty something! Grunkle Ford had to make breakfast, and Dipper and him almost burnt down the house!”

“Hm, one thirty, was reading for five hours or so-- WAIT A SECOND! You let Ford near a stove!?” Stan yelped, rushing down the stairs closely followed by Mabel. He dashed into the kitchen and shut off the still burning flame, then collapsed into a chair, head spinning for the second time that day. Or was it third. He squinted to look at his twin, who stared back at him in surprise. “G-d, Stanford.”

“Okay, I’ll admit it,” Ford said, slow and careful. “Yes, I may still be a fire hazard.”

“Forever and always, Sixer,” Stan groaned, then glared at his twin. “Don’t forget it. I don’t want paying for this house’s mortgage to be a waste of money.”

“Stingy much?” Ford sneered, getting up from his seat, six fingers gripping the edge of the table tightly. “Maybe you really are a filthy money gru--”

“I dare you to finish that sentence.” Stan cut in, getting to his feet as well, holding onto the table for another reason. “I really do. I want to see  _ exactly _ how little you care for your heritage.”

Ford opened his mouth to retort something, but no words came out. He slowly sank back into his seat. Stan felt a smile tug at his lips, but didn’t let it come through. ‘ Do not rejoice when your enemy falls, and do not let your heart be glad when he stumbles ,’ he reminded himself, remembering the quote from Mishlei [Proverbs]. Wait, since when was Ford his enemy? And, like it says in Tehillim [Psalms], “How good and how pleasant for brothers to sit together?”

Three pairs of eyes swiveled onto him, and Stanley turned red when he realized he had said those words aloud. He stood up, again very quickly, but this time, didn’t even have the time to regret the action as blackness clouded his vision. He had the strange feeling of falling and flying at the same time, and through water, right by his ear, he heard two ‘Grunkle Stan!’s and one ‘Stanley!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something similar has happened to me once. Peace out, Cntrlrs!


	3. Stupid Matzo Colored Dorito

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, he's only mentioned.

To be honest, this isn't the first time Stanley woke up to a slap on the face. Though... he had never woken up to... well, to soft slapping. Repeated soft slaps. With a nicely woven cloth feel. And, an atrocious pink that could only be used by one person....

"Mabel," Grunkle Stan mumbled, half lucidly batting the sweater sleeves away. "Mabel, Pumpkin, what are you doing?"

"I'm being the anesthesiologist, and slappin' some sense into you Grunkle Stan!" she proudly announced, emphasising with a gentle 'womp' on his cheek. Her jolly face grew troubled though, and just as Stan was going to ask what was wrong, she lunged at him with a hug. She whispered, "I'm glad you're o.k., Grunkle Stan. Even Grunkle Ford was worried. Probably. Most likely. Maybe?"

"We'll go with 'most likely', huh?" Stan chuckled, albeit a little sadly, at Mabel's description of his brother. "Probably seems a little too high, am I right?"

"Yeah," Mabel sighed, then smooshed her cheeks with her fingers. "I wish it could've been 'definitely'."

"You and me both, kid," Stanley said blatantly. Unfortunately, or fortunately, if you want to look at it that way, Ford walked in at that precise moment, Dipper by his heels. The two brothers stared at each other, until Stan looked toward Mabel and sighed, tired and spent. "What do you want, Ford? Another thirty years of my li... you know what?! Forget it! Forget I ever pushed you into that cursed portal, forget I ever broke your project, forget that I, the worthless twin, the spare, the stupid, reckless idiot that risked everything for his holier-than-thou brother, ever EXISTED! I'm sorry for all of it! But that wouldn't stop me from saving your ungrateful butt a million times! I'd make a deal with the devil to keep you safe! But... nothing's gonna change this, is it?"

Stan got off the couch swiftly (after Mabel was on it comfortably), and brushed past his twin (not before ruffling Dipper's hair affectionately.   
"S-Stan," Ford stuttered, shell shocked by his brother’s outburst.

“Sorry I had to be around,” Stanley muttered. The soft closing of the front door sounded like a slam. The three remaining Pines stood silently, motionless.

* * *

 

Stanford stared at the place his brother had stood moments before, not able to move. Dipper merely looked blankly at his hero, while Mabel glanced at both of them from her spot on the couch, before leaping into action, shoving Ford onto the seat and motioning her own twin over. He nodded, and hopped into the space beside his beloved Grunkle, Mabel on the other side.

“I’m a terrible brother,” Ford stated, blunt and morose. “I… I don’t even know what to say anymore.”

“It’s o.k., Grunkle Ford!” Mabel chirped, patting an ‘ALRIGHT!’ sticker onto his sweater. “Grunkle Stan’ll get over it!”

“Yeah,” Dipper agreed, nodding his head. “You just need to give him time.”

“Ugh,” Ford groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Maybe he shouldn’t have saved me from the portal.”

“No!” Mabel interjected forcefully. “This is  _ exactly _ why he brought you back!”

Dipper and Ford exchanged worried looks.

* * *

 

“Ah, universe,” Stan sighed, looking into the dusky sunset. “Why does hunger make people say things they regret?”

“Ehem,” Dipper interrupted quietly, gaining his younger Grunkle’s attention. Stan scowled when he saw Ford, holding his niece and nephew’s hands, and he spitefully turned back to the forest. “Grunkle Stan, c’mon.”

“Why don’t you talk to each other?” Mabel asked stepping forward, placing a small hand on Stanley’s shoulder, a pleading tone in her voice. “Why don’t you talk to each other, just give it a try.”

“Why don’t you talk about what happened?” Dipper added in, pulling Stanford to his twin. “We know you’re trying to avoid it….”

“But we don’t know why,” Mabel tearfully finished. “You might not believe it… but you’ve got a lot in common, you really do!”

“You both love us,” Dipper’s voice cracked. “And…”

“We love both of you,” the younger twin set finished together. Mabel sniffled, and that’s when you could pinpoint Stan’s heart breaking. “Please?”

“Alright, alright,” he said quickly, pulling the niblings into a hug. ‘ _ Just don’t cry _ .’

“How about you and Dipper making something for Stan to break his fast on?” Ford asked softly, speaking for the first time. He met his twin’s incredulous look, then immediately looked away, face flushing in embarrassment. “If… if he wants, of course.”

“Sounds good,” Stan agreed, gently patting Mabel’s head and ruffling Dipper’s hair simultaneously. “You two gremlins head in. Ford and me will come in if… if we have any…  _ issues. _ ”

“Okay Grunkle Stan,” Dipper sighed, pulling Mabel back into the house. She waved at her two Great Uncles before disappearing into the Mystery Shack.

Neither twin spoke for a while, Stan keeping his eyes in the forest, Ford absentmindedly rubbing his elbow with a guilty expression.

“Are ya gonna siddown, or are ya gonna give me a mussar shmooze [lecture of rebuke] standing?” Stan asked, gruff and terse. “If you are, ju--”

“There,” Ford cut him off, plopping down onto the stairs beside his brother. “Stanley… I need to say something, but before I do, I need to  _ ask  _ you a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Um, do you….” Stanford trailed off, disabling Stan from hearing him. “Do you ha….”

“Spit it out, Poindexter.”

“Do you hate me?” Ford blurted, turning red. His heart sank when Stan didn’t reply. “ Alright. I guess that that would be my fau--”

“No,” Stan whispered, barely audible. Ford whipped around to face him. “I don’t hate you… even though you probably do. If… if I hated you, do you think I would even bother saving you from the portal? None of that was your fault. I broke your project, and I threw the first blow. I don’t hate you, Sixer. You’re family. You might be a selfish, ignorant, and egoistic knucklehead, but you’re still my brother. How could I hate my own twin?”

“I… I thought I hated you, for a long time,” Ford murmured, soft and gentle, a tone Stan hadn’t heard from his brother directed at him. It made him want to cry tears of joy. “But, I now realize, I actually hated Bill, and I blamed what he did on you.”

“Bill,” Stan muttered, saying the name like it was a curse. “That triangle kept me up all night, every night, until I put Mezuzahs [the scroll thingy you find on the left side of doors] on the doors. Even saying shema [night prayer] didn’t help. Stupid matza colored dorito.”

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. That was interesting. If you'd like to know anything about any of this, like why Mabel is the one to hold the Havdala candle and not Dipper, how I got the Pines' Jewish names, or why Ford seemed... off, just give me a ringer, PM me, message me or what not. Also, if anyone's hating on your work, I'm here if anyone'd like ta rant.  
> CR


End file.
